Maybe it was because of what happened in the archive the day before, but Dan I-jae sat quietly throughout the entire class, reading silently—quite unlike his usual self.
It was, in every sense, the ideal class time that Sahyeon had dreamed of.
And yet… why did he feel so self-conscious?
As Sahyeon carefully read each phrase from So-hak twice, he kept regretting things over and over in his mind.
I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.
Why did I rush to confirm it like that?
But thinking about it, it wasn’t like Sahyeon had time to spare.
It was necessary to sort out the worthy from the unworthy ahead of time.
Now that he was certain Dan I-jae had no interest in the throne, it would be a big help in deciding the direction Sahyeon would take next.
Of course.
He didn’t come all the way to Un-gyeong Palace just to play teacher…
Sahyeon pressed his lips together and stared quietly at Dan I-jae. Dan I-jae sat neatly, like a model student, eyes lowered as he calmly read the bamboo slips.
As if he wasn’t even curious why Sahyeon had stopped reading aloud.
“Do you understand it well?”
Eventually, Sahyeon spoke first.
He felt like he’d lost, but really, how many times had he felt that way before?
“Very well. ‘When an elder bestows something, the young and lowly must not decline it.’ (So-hak, Chapter on Propriety) That’s why I’m so diligently devoting myself to my studies like this.”
“We haven’t read that part yet. But seeing you already studying ahead makes me feel proud as your teacher.”
“You flatter me.”
“Yes. Even I thought that was a bit much.”
Only then did Dan I-jae raise the corners of his lips into a faintly irritated smile.
Was it strange that seeing that made Sahyeon feel relieved?
“Master, how should we serve lunch?”
A palace attendant, sensing the relaxed mood inside as if by magic, seized the chance to knock on the door.
Dan I-jae rubbed his temple lightly and looked at Sahyeon before speaking.
“All the ingredients in the storeroom were granted by my royal father, so this lowly son shouldn’t dare decline them, should he?”
There he goes again, being difficult just to make others feel awkward.
As if Sahyeon would grovel and stammer, “Oh, noble young master, how could you say such a thing?”
He knew full well Sahyeon wouldn’t do that.
So Sahyeon responded with an intentionally indifferent expression.
“Then wouldn’t the younger son be more appropriate?”
Dan I-jae’s eyes curved with subtle amusement.
“Is that so? Then let’s do it that way.”
Despite his odd expression, he rather obediently accepted Sahyeon’s suggestion.
“I’ll have lunch here with Scholar Baek.”
And of course, the words he loudly added for the ears outside the door were like a thunderbolt to Sahyeon.
“I already have a lunch appointment today.”
Sahyeon blurted out a lie on instinct.
“An appointment? With whom?”
“Um… I—I have an appointment with myself.”
But he had to confess the truth almost immediately.
“Well, then ask Scholar Baek. Is it proper for a fifth-rank court scholar to refuse a meal invitation from a royal noble? I think Scholar Baek would be understanding.”
“I asked, and though he had a lot to say, he said he understood.”
“Very tactful of him.”
“Indeed.”
Ha ha ha…
Their awkward, simultaneous laughter couldn’t have felt more unnatural.
Sahyeon was the first to stop and began neatly rolling up the bamboo slips.
“Lunch has been served.”
The attendants, already prepared, burst in without pause.
Before Sahyeon could even finish organizing things, the youngest attendant hurriedly moved the desk between the two.
Then two rather large tables were brought in, too big for one person to eat from.
Most eye-catching of all was the massive… fish dish that took up half the table.
“This is the truly delicious sea bream.”
One attendant whispered proudly as he set the tray in front of Sahyeon.
It seemed they had finally won the sea bream war against Sugyeong Pavilion.
“Did you eat breakfast?”
Dan I-jae asked after taking a spoonful of soup.
Only then did Sahyeon pick up his chopsticks and gently push aside the pretty egg garnish on the sea bream.
“Yes. The inn serves me a bowl of noodles every morning.”
His chopsticks sank deep into the plump sea bream.
Deeper than expected.
Was all this flesh?
What kind of fish gets this fat?
“You’re diligent about your meals.”
And of course, Dan I-jae took the chance to make a snide remark again.
At this point, it seemed he had been better off silent all morning.
Sahyeon scooped up a generous bite of the tender white fish, dipped it in soy sauce, and popped it into his mouth.
He chewed with exaggerated satisfaction before replying.
“It’s an age of chaos. They say even a ghost who dies on a full stomach looks better. You never know when disaster will strike, so I make sure to eat well when I can.”
“A body stuffed with food is the first to rot. It decays from the organs inward.”
“As long as my soul crosses over well-fed, I couldn’t care less what happens to my corpse.”
“Spare a thought for whoever has to clean it up.”
“Will you clean it up, Master?”
“If you die in front of me, I might consider it.”
The food was delicious, but Sahyeon chewed like he had gravel in his mouth, face bitter.
Damn it, was that a threat or a joke?
“Then, Scholar Baek, if I die in front of you, will you prepare my body?”
It seemed Dan I-jae was determined to get all the grim talk out of the way today.
Sahyeon put down his chopsticks and looked at him with clear disapproval.
The man in question, unaffected, noisily slurped his clear meat soup like a child.
“If the young master dies, the royal family will likely give him a proper funeral. Why would I need to handle it?”
Perhaps he’d caught a piece of meat—Dan I-jae chewed it thoughtfully, his eyes darting, and then he smiled as if amused and twitched a finger.
“Then let’s imagine this. Suppose I’m falsely accused of treason and take my own life, with no one to take care of my corpse…”
“Damn it, don’t say such things. And this is the palace!”
Sahyeon’s heart pounded in fear that someone might overhear.
Meanwhile, Dan I-jae calmly crunched on some pickled radish.
“It’s not like I’m making it up.”
The one who had died under false accusation—his birth mother.
What was he trying to get at by bringing up such an uncomfortable subject?
“I don’t know what answer you were hoping for, but I’m sorry. If that’s the case, I can’t prepare your body. Once I bury you in a sunny spot, I’d likely be dragged away and killed too. But… I would try to clear your name.”
“So your own survival is more important than my rotting corpse?”
“You know how far I’ve come to get here.”
“…Hmm.”
Dani-jae smiled softly and picked up a bite of sea bream with his chopsticks.
“Don’t let that heart change.”
Thinking he was saying something pointless, Sahyeon poured his rice into the soup bowl.
“I’ve been like this since I was born, so don’t worry.”
Determined to finish the meal quickly and get out of this uncomfortable setting, he stuffed a large spoonful of rice into his mouth—but he couldn’t completely silence the turmoil in his heart.
Damn it, the man had said he wouldn’t get involved in the succession dispute and would live within his means—so why bring up the idea of being falsely accused and dying, making others uneasy?
He wanted to ask: after hearing those words, had Dani-jae started having second thoughts?
Had he now developed an ambition for the throne?
Was he suppressing the desire that had begun to stir in his heart, recalling the death of his birth mother?
But no matter how lenient Dani-jae seemed toward Sahyeon, he was still a member of the royal family.
There must be some kind of reverse scale—a trigger that must not be touched.
And if that trigger was “his mother’s death,” then prodding it would only cause trouble…
He should hold his tongue.
Sahyeon only glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
Dani-jae was barely eating, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose.
Come to think of it, he’d been rubbing his temples off and on since morning.
Was he hungover?
Just as that thought crossed his mind, their eyes met.
Sahyeon quickly looked down at the sea bream as if nothing had happened.
“What are you looking at like that?”
Of course, things could never just pass quietly.
Sahyeon swallowed the rice in his mouth and looked up.
“The soup seemed a little bland after I mixed it with the rice, so I seasoned it a bit by looking at your face.”
“No wonder. My soup was definitely salty, but every time I looked at your face, the flavor seemed just right. I guess bland is bland.”
“Haha. If I keep looking, I think it’ll get even saltier—so may I avert my eyes now?”
“Go ahead. I prefer bland things, so I’ll have to stare a bit more.”
Sahyeon forced himself to ignore the stinging gaze on his forehead and finished his uncomfortable meal.
When he stepped out and opened the door, he saw Baeksongol sitting leisurely on the wooden porch, tearing into something with gusto.
As soon as he spotted Sahyeon, he let out a baby bird-like squawk—“Pyaa!”—utterly unbefitting his size, and opened his beak in a wide smile.
Looking into those bright yellow eyes curved like crescent moons, Sahyeon couldn’t help but smile back.
How curious.
Do birds normally smile like humans?
“What are you eating so intently? Fish?”
Three fresh crucian carps were lying at his feet.
Sahyeon approached Baeksongol, who tilted his head as he followed Sahyeon’s movement, and squatted down.
“You hunted these yourself?”
“Pyaa!”
“All three? That’s impressive.”
“Pyaa!”
Whether the bird actually understood him or was just pretending to, it chirped cheerfully in reply and quickly grabbed one of the crucian carps in its beak, then thrust its head toward Sahyeon.